Remus J. Lupin

This is an RP journal, currently in use at communiquills, and not looking for an RPG. Following are the letters written by Remus Lupin during his years at Hogwarts. Visit communiquills to find similar letters by other HP characters.
 
 
( 20 Random Things About Remus J. Lupin )


( Five Times Someone Remus Loved Did Something He Hated )

For ease of following particular threads of conversation and relationships, Remus has been kind enough to gather his links together. Some links may be to the letters of other Hogwarts students.

( Remus & Sirius, OTP )
( Remus & Friends )
( Remus & Enemies )
( Remus & His Teachers )
( Remus & His Students )

Always a work in progress...

I feel as though I have lost him. Which is silly, because I obviously have. He is gone and it will be a long time until I see him again. But I am afraid that when that time comes, he will not be waiting. He has already moved on, found somone new to make the endless time of eternity pass by.

I consider that perhaps it is my own fault. After all, I did drop my protestations eventually, I accepted a gesture of closeness and comfort from another. I do not love her, though, not how she deserves to be loved. Not how I love him.

Nothing compares to how I have loved him.

The thought of our reunion got me through the worst of my mourning. (That and dangerous tasks that I accepted willingly on the chance that I'd be killed on duty and join him — them, but mostly him — for the rest of our afterlives.

Was it foolish of me? To expect that a man like him could truly sit still and wait for me?

I feel like a fool, certainly. And what's worse is that I know that I will, when my time comes, just sit back and watch him as he shares his heart, his soul, with another. I won't force myself back into his world. He can take his new love and our once-mutual friends and I will sit and grieve anew and be the emotional martyr I've always been destined to be.

I don't take dangerous missions now. It causes a few problems, because I have skills sorely needed by our weakened side, but everyone seems to take it in stride. Maybe they think I'm protecting myself for her sake. That's fine — and on some level it's true. I don't want to go before I can tel her the truth (too gay), because I don't want her mourning something that isn't real. (Though I can't imagine it will be too big of a surprise to her. Surely her parents have expressed some surprise in our arrangement?)

Mostly, though, I want to spare myself the heartache for as long as possible. I'm a disgrace to my house, but that house has too many memories anyway. Too many nights curled up in front of the fireplace, easily sliding apart when someone else came in the room. I find myself wishing we'd been more bold, less cautious back then. Though, I say "we" but it was really my urging that kept us quiet. He was already the rebel — one more reason for people to talk about him wouldn't have hurt. But I grew up listening to relations speak in villanous tones about people like me, and I grew up learning to keep a great & terrible secret. It's been only natural to keep this quiet as well.

But maybe that was the downfall, of us, of everything. If I hadn't been as secretive, maybe things wouldn't have gone the way that they did. Maybe he would have trusted me. Maybe everything wouldn't have fallen apart, maybe he would still be here today, we'd still be together.

Or maybe...

 


 

Maybe he would have left me anyway. Maybe I was never more than a teenage fling, another way to rebel against everything(one) that he hated. Oh I don't doubt that he loved me, in his way. But we were both young, and it's more than likely that his love was only friendship, with a dash of relief that we had something important in comon. (I have never doubted his enjoyment of sex with a man, with me.)

That would all be fine. More than fine, really. We were lucky to have someone so trustworthy at that age. I just wish I hadn't mucked things up by never getting over him. Not for not hating him, but simply for never letting my love cool. For jumping back into things as soon as we were both ready.

I never thought of him as an "ex". I think that's what's making it so hard. We never ended, either time. So he's still very much MINE, and the thought of him with anyone else is heartbreaking.

I take it out on myself at the moon. The people who call me their friend worry for me. I have never scarred, but I now take much longer to recover; it's often nearly the last quarter before I am quite myself again. (I also find that, when I have wolfsbane to temper me, I sleep in front of the door to make sure it stays shut. The wolf doesn't know that his big, black packmate is never coming back — just that he doesn't want him around anymore.) I let the wolf express my jealousy, and in return I am able to have marginally satisfying sex with a woman who loves me for all the wrong reason but at least has an adventurous spirit and isn't offended or bothered when I ask her to use the strap-on on me or when I need something tighter and rougher than her cunt for one night. I try to keep those requests, especially the latter, to the week before the moon, just to give both of us another explanation that doesn't point to the fact that I find breasts cumbersome udders, generally speaking.

Mostly I'm just grateful she hasn't asked for children.

Yet.

Days before the moon I want to run. I want to leave her behind with a brief note of apology ("Sorry, just too gay, off to get lost in some big city to find a better replacement for the man who was never really my ex. Love to your mum and dad.")

I imagine myself somewhere where no one knows me at all. I've often fancied living in the States for awhile, though there's just too much country to pick one place to settle, not right away. I wouldn't mind the continent, but the governments there are very harsh about letting in Dark Creatures.

When the moon has just passed, as it is now, I am open and sore, both physically and emotionally. But this too shall pass. I will find joys in life once more.

I have to, since the joy I expected in the afterlife has been taken from me. Right now is all I have.

Well, I went and did it. Told Mum and Dad about Sirius and me. I would've preferred to keep it quiet longer (forever, really) but Sirius asked me to move in with him after we leave school in a couple weeks, so I had to tell them something. And the truth, while potentially problematic now, is of course better in the long run.

They...well, they took it rather well, really. Mum wrote back to say she's surprised, but not really. Heh. Dad, apparently, isn't taking it quite as well, but I've been assured that he still loves me and wants me to be happy. I can't ask for more than that, can I?

They certainly are better than Sirius's family. Well, at least better than I assume they'd take it if Sirius ever spoke to them. He hasn't been in contact with his parents for nearly two years now, I think. His brother is a year below us in school (titchy little brat if ever there was one), but that's as close as he gets to his blood relatives. He does write often to one of his cousins, and she's a lovely woman who cares greatly for him and is very supportive. Her daughter is sweet and rather has an adorable little-girl crush on him. Oh to be five-years-old again...

I admit, I am a bit conce
I am going to try and convince Sirius to take a holiday to Italy later this year. I think we both need to get away from here. I don't know how much you listen to international news, but we've been having a worse and worse time with this Voldemort character. His following has really grown, and not more than a few days can pass now without hearing of another murdered family. It's horrible. I know we cannot ignore him, but I would love to just run away with Sirius and escape it all. Get a little cottage by the shore or something, live quiet lives of sleeping and reading and eating and making love every night until we die of old age.

But I don't think he'd even take the holiday. He's completely set on taking this "dark lord" down...and I am, too, of course, but...I'm just so scared of losing him. Sirius is, without question, the best thing I've ever had in my life. Even before we got together, just as a friend. The thought of losing him...shit. I can't. I just can't.

Hm. This was just supposed to be a quick letter, and now look at me. I think I need to track him down and wrestle him into some girly cuddling. It's nearly pathetic how badly I need him, isn't it?

With love,
Pathetically yours,

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I've got some news which may or may not come as a surprise to you. I want you to know right up front that I'm not asking permission for from you — this is what's going to happen. I've known for weeks, but haven't plucked up the courage found the time to tell you until now.

I know we'd always planned that I would live with you at home until I found a steady job, either in the wizard or Muggle world, so I wouldn't have to dip into the savings until I had a source of income. Well, I don't have a job...but I still won't be living at home after I leave school in June.

I am, actually, going to move in with Sirius in his flat.

Well. Er, more like our flat. And not in a flatmatey way. Rather, it'll be our flat and our furniture and our food and our single bedroom with wizard-size bed (provided he does chuck the witch-size one curently there like he promised). Does that...er, does that make sense?

Do you hate me? Do you mind terribly? I'm not ruining anything, am I?

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My mum sent along your letter to me here at school, so I'm sorry for the delay in getting back to you. First, congratulations! I heard about the engagement a few months ago, but never got around to sending you a note. Last year of school, you know how mad things get, yeah?

As for your question, of course I'll be an usher! You're sure there's no one else you or your fiancée is closer to who can do it? I don't want anyone feeling slighted at all. But as long as you're sure it's fine, I'll be happy to help get you enslaved married.

I'll have to get back to you about whether or not I'm bringing a date. It's a...well, it's tricky. Imagine how your father would feel about having a couple of queers dancing at his son's wedding! But I'll let you know one way or the other as soon as I can, hopefully within the next week.

Say hello to your family for me!

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Just wanted to let you know that that thing we talked about back over Easter? You were right. It's all pretty much rubbish. I'm not half surprised.

Any word from your friends about potential job openings? I mean, no rush, I know I've got two months left before school's even over, and even then you and Mum aren't going to kick me out right away, but you know me and planning, I get it from you.

Time for another study session. I bloody hate NEWTs. Glad I didn't take the Muggle Studies one, though, thanks for that advice.

Love,

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My name is Remus Lupin, and I am a seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As we are now in of the final term of our education, the professors have asked us to begin correspondence with those in our desired field of employ once we've received our NEWTs.

From the very beginning of my school career I have been fascinated by Defence Against the Dark Arts. My NEWT-level class has, also, been following your rising career as a brilliant wizard crusading to protect wizardkind mo from the most deadly and dangerous creatures an in the world. We read Travel With Trolls and Break With A Banshee as soon as they were published!

Your bi-weekly newsletter recently mentioned that your next book will focus on werewolves. I have a keen interest in those ho creatres in particular, and so I find myself writing to you today to ask if you might be in need of a research assistant for this exciting project.

If you've any need for a reference, you may owl Professors Minerva McGonagall or Benjy Fenwick here at Hogwarts. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has also kindly offered to speak on my behalf.

I hope to hear back from you soon, and I wish you luck with your upcoming projects.

Sincerely,

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When did you figure it out?

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Thank you for talking me up to your friends, I really do appreciate it. It's been a crazy time talking about jobs and all sorts of things after leaving Hogwarts. I always feel depressed after those talks Nothing's really caught my fancy, but I'm always looking for ideas.

My only concern is...well, you remember how I was always up in hospital, yeah? It hasn't gotten better over the years, and I'd hate to commit to an employer and end up disappointing them, you know? and if they were to find out WHY I'm always "sick", fuck, forget it

So, again, I do appreciate your looking out for me, but Dumbledore is also seeing what he can find, and even if I can't find something right away, it'll be all right, I've got some money saved up, and I'll either live at home with my parents or with friends. Or just Sirius. Or just with Sirius. Keep forgetting that you know now. Oh shit, did you know it was Sirius? I can't even remember if I told you! Bollocks. Well. There you have it, it's Sirius.

Right, before I go and launch into anything else unexpected, I'll wrap this up.

Thanks again!

Love,

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It's the new year, though I don't expect it's too very happy as yet. I wish I could've been 'round to visit during the holiday, but I've had to stay here at school. I'm not alone, though, so it hasn't been that bad.

And, er, speaking of not being alone...I suppose I can't simply ignore your parting line from your Christmas letter, can I? Have I been terribly obvious? Do you think others might figure it out? Only I haven't told my parents yet, so I'm a bit nerve-wracked at the idea of something working its way through to them before they can hear from me directly.

I'm glad it doesn't bother you, though you've always been a particularly open-minded and tolerant friend. That's why you were such a brilliant prefect.

I wouldn't mind telling you who, but I don't think it would be proper to say without getting his okay, first. I'm sure you understand. At least now I don't have to fuss over pronouns in my letters to you!

You should come by the school sometime for a visit. Maybe next Hogsmeade trip in February?

For auld lang syne,
Love,

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Happy Christmas! I hope you and Raphael have a wonderful holiday. Are you getting together with family at all? I'm not sure what my plans are yet. I may stay here at school with my friends, or Sirius is trying to convince me to stay with him at his flat (did I ever tell you that he ran away left his family's childhood home house? Well, he did. You're not going to be all disapproving like my mum is, are you? He's a good man, he had no other choice! God, I'm defending him and I don't even know that you need me to. Must have it bad...)

I've been thining about what to do after school. I...well, finding a job won't be easy for me, for various reasons I don't feel like getting into. Anyway. I know you don't work steadily — benefit of coming from the rich side of the family, I'm sure — but did you have any formal training? Not that I'm looking into architecture or anything, but I guess I just want to be reassured that I there are kinds of work that you can control...the hours, the days, everything.

Then again, with this war out there, there may not be time to work, if I'm going to help fight it. And I am.

I'd give my life to fight this evil.

God, I think that's the first time I've put that decision in words. That's fucking frightening, yeah? But I swear it's true.

Well, how's that for a happy holiday greeting? Sorry about that.

Love you, Gianni. Have a wonderful day, give Raphael a hug for me, and don't worry about me.

Buon Natale,

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I got a letter from Emmeline today. Oh God...her fiancé was killed the other night. Two weeks before their wedding! She was out out doing some errands and several wizards went to their flat and...just...oh god.

He was a Muggleborn, that's why they killed him, I know it. It had to be those Death Eaters we've heard whispers about. It makes me so angry.

I...I just wanted you to know. No need to write back. I need to go think for a while. Emmaline and Michael stood for so much to me, and now...if they can be torn apart, what chance do any of us have? What's the point of having friends and loving someone if...

I'll Floo to say hello on Christmas. Love you.

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I've started and chucked out this letter half a dozen times already. I just...I don't know what to say.

Oh Emmeline, I am so sorry. There's simply no way to adequately express how much without it sounding as if I'm downplaying your feelings.

You have always been a strong person, always one of the first people I trust to listen to me and respond with wisdom and comfort. While I don't have wisdom as such for you, I will give as much comfort as I am able.

With heartfelt condolences,

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Just what do you think I am, some sort of escort service? Which unsuspecting boy do you want to make jealous this time? I can't do this for you; I'm in a very happy relationship with someone who I love very very much, and I have no desire to even pretend for one night that I am interested in you.

And while the jealousy angle might be a good temporary solution to getting your claws in a bloke, let me assure you that if there aren't true feelings behind it all that would bring you together in the end regardless, it's just not worth it.

Please don't write to me again.

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Hallo. Look, I'm sure you're wondering what all that was about. Erm. Truth is, I'm not entirely sure what I wrote, but I'm sure most things are just plain crap. See, we won a really important match yesterday, and James (you know how he loves Quidditch) was really excellent, so we were all quite chuffed and in the mood to celebrate. I guess we got a little out of control, though. Professor McGonagall has already taken care of corre punishing us all, but I just wanted to let you know that Iv'e learned my lesson and plan to finish out my final year with a spotless recored. Unless Sirius and I get caught shagging in a classroom or broom closet or something, but then at least it will be WORTH IT.

But seriously, whatever I wrote in my last letter? Complete shite crap. Don't believe a word of it, unless I mentioned it here.,

Love,

Let me tell you about YOUR SON. He is bloody BRILLIANT. He has played perhaps the best game of Quidich I have ever seen in my 17 and a ½ years (it was exactly that yesterday HAPPY HALF-BIRTHDAY TO ME!) and considering he is always pretty damn brilliant that is saying something indeed. It is in my prefesstional opinion that James Potter is a Quiditch GOD, and you should be very proud of your little godling.

Your other son, Mr Sirius of the Blacks by blood but really nothing of the sort by personality, is also a GOD but he is a different sort of god and while I realise that I am more than a little tipsy I have not lost my senses so completely that I would go and tell you how excellent he is at shagging me so don't you get your hopes up you naughty wench!

Merlin these smudges are awful. It's all your godling's fault, playing Quiddich in the rain and the mud and the rain and...bugger...oh and the mud! YES! Mud! Mud mud muddy mud mud is every where.

I need a shower.

YOUR SON IS A QUIDDITSCH GOD YOU KNOW.

Love from,

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Well, cugino, I need some advice. As you may recall, a couple months ago I detailed to you, in a most graphic fashion, the circumstances of my first blowjob. I'm sure I don't know what came over me.

Anyway, adding that to our repetoire repertoire has been amazing. I love him to bits and I'm almost entirely sure he feels the same. But we're still not quite reading to...erm "go all the way", if you take my meaning? (Even if we were, though, it'd be odd to do it here at schoo, I think.) So, I need your help. What else can we do to try out? Positions, er, tricks? Whatever. It's like, we want to be with each other in every way possible (except the one, though we do want that, we just aren't ready yet.)

Here's your chance to thoroughly corrupt two 17-year-olds! Don't miss out!

Ci vediamo,

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I do believe I have the best boyfriend ever. I know you're probably partial to your own, but let me assure you: my perfect Padfoot is the grand champion of excellent boyfriends.

And becasue I'm in such a perfect, excellent mood, I will give you the thrill of a lifetime and provide DETAILS!

Oh my GOD what am I THINKING?!

Right. So. First Valentine's Day and all. The previous five years were all about S. making fun of all the schmoopy, kissy couples who dared express their lust love in public. So, I was a bit apprehensive about what the day would bring. We hadn't discussed any plans, and...

Well, what you have to understand about S. is that...well, he's bloody popular. Rightly so, of course. He's gorgeous and charming and funny. and everything I'm not Anyway, he's always had had loads of female attention. And it was always considered "common knowledge" that S. had a new girlfriend every week and shagged them all and such. We all knew the th truth, of course — it was all talk, and most of it not even his. But he never tried to straighten anyone out, either.

Point is, those conceptions are still in place. As I'm sure you can understand, no one knows about us. Not even our best mates (though I suspect that S. vascillates between liking our secret and wanting to tell J. because they tell each other everything.)

What all this means is, of course, I wasn't sure this would be a special day for us. Even if he didn't go around hexing snogging couples, I didn't really think he'd act any differently towards me...just our normal stolen kisses and teasing gropes under the table at meals. One day someone is going to ask why we only ever eat with one hand each!

On the other hand, by now I should be used to S. being completely unpredictable and utterly charming and the biggest, most soft-hearted romantic you could ever imagine. Silly me.

Why no, I'm not stalling, whyever would you think that?

All right, I suppose, I've filled you in on enough background information now. Well, maybe a bit more, as I guess you should have a sense of Previous Activity, else certain momentous events will not seem as, er, momentous. Perap Perhaps such a timeline will help put me in the right frame of mind to be more detailed in the Main Event.

1. The first of thousands of kisses had in early September. (No doubt you remember the seductive and celebratory letters that caused and resulted? Tosser — you've probably had them framed and mounted!)


2. Delicious pressing of Sensitive Areas and the discovery of Absolute Pleasure with Another Person soon followed.


3. A bit after that, chests got involved. Naked chests, obviously.


4. A nerve-filled night cuddling in his bed after that. Nerve-filled because sometimes P. sleepwalks and runs into beds, and we were completely unsure how to explain why I was in bed w/ S. at two in the morning. (We still worry about that, a bit, but less so since P.'s taken to wanking before bed to help him sleep better.)


5. NAKED AT LAST!!!!!!! (Er...that was S.'s input. I would never abuse punctuation like that! NEVER. He's just happened to have learnt to mimic my handwriting. Yes.)


6. Hands become acquainted with lower torso appendages — Oh piss it, must stop being such a prude in writing, as I am not w/ S. — COCKS. PENISES. WILLIES. JOHN THOMASES. MANROOTS! (Look at me, such a big boy now...oh BOLLOCKS that's not what I meant!) The point: we've brought each other off with our hands. Yes.


7. ...ah, well. This is where our story begins...

About an hour after dinner, I'm up in the dorm, doing some light revising on my bed. I expect I was rather irresistible, lying on my stomach, my bum quite accessible, bare feet begging to be tickled (alas! my toesies aren't ticklish and oh God I just said TOESIES!). J. & P. were out doing some, er, research. Suddenly S. jumps to his feet, grabs a sock from his trunk, then ties it around the doorknob. (I think he's been dying to use that trick of yours ever since I told him that story.)

I was a bit wary — if J. & P. thought S. had a girl, they'd go look for me around the school, and wouldn't it look weird if I was nowhere to be found? S. insists that it'll be okay, and if they ask I should just say I got caught in the loo and my poor ears were traumatised. I couldn't really argue with this — because it was a good plan, and also because now he was snogging me and I'd forgotten what we were talking about. I love kissing him. He's always so focused, so intent on make me feel completely wanted and...and desired. Oh yes.

So there we were, snogging our brains out for what felt like forever but still not long enough. And as we've been wont to do since returning from the winter hols, we quickly stripped and...well.

He started kissing down my neck and my chest and doing wicked things to my nipples. I love when he sort of nibbles gently. For a bit he played constellations with my freckles and his tongue, and as I have many freckles (which he insists all taste like chocolate, the daft mutt) he always spends a nice bit of time on that. Well, then he stops rather soon and starts heading a bit lower, and while lips and tongues have made perfunctory visits to the outer regions of Netherworld, this time I could sense that, well, he was going for the full tour this time around. I leaned up on my elbow and reached down with my other hand to get his attention, asked him if he was really going to do what I thought he was going to do. He looked up at me and oh god the look on his face! This amazing mix of lust and excitement and nervousness. and I swear I saw love there too but I'm far too afraid to get my hopes up He just smiled at me, his brilliant amazing smile and then winked at me and gently pushed me back down on the pillows and went back to what he'd been doing. And now I was so unbelievably turned on and so hard, part of me wanted to stop him because I thought it wouldn't last nearly long enough for either of us to enjoy it properly.

He started licking at my navel, which tickled like hell until he wrapped his hand around me loosely at which point the only place I could feel anything was my cock. He stroked it lightly a few times, like he was easing me in so I wouldn't be completely overwhelmed. (I will say now, for a boy who's never gotten this far with anyone before — and I do believe that about him, it's not just a line he's fed me or anything — he has superior skills, at least as far as I can tell from my own, equally never-gone-that-far-before self.) We shifted around a bit so that I was a bit propped up by the pillows so I could watch easier and he was crouching on his knees between my legs. He looked up at me and we just held a stare for a few moments while I licked my lips (because I know how it drives him completely MAD when I do that) and he stroked me with his thumb and then he grinned and leaned down and FUCK I almost came right then and there when his lips wrapped around the head of me.

Somehow he realised how close I was perhaps it was my embarrassingly long and loud moan of pleasure? and backed off a bit, just kind of lapping softly all up and down my shaft. Finally it started to feel less urgent and more lethargic, like we could go on like that all day and stay in that heady buzz of arousal. Of course, we're horny teenage boys, so you know it couldn't last that long in that way. He started licking a bit harder and longer, and quite soon he was tounging my shaft from base to head and back again. I started to squirm a bit, so he grabbed my hips and held me tight, which just made me want to squirm more. Then he started dropping open-mouthed kisses everywhere, not just on my cock but up on my abdomen and over my thighs and anywhere he could reach.

Finally he gets back to the task at hand and wraps his lips around me again. This time I wasn't as quite on the edge, so he started to lower his head down until he couldn't take me in anymore (and while I'm not spectaularly huge, I think he didn't get quite as far as he'd hoped, but it certainly didn't bother me, and I know the more we do this the easier it will be...right?). Then, while he's latched on he let his tongue get me nice and slick with his saliva and my own, er, drippings...and then he pulled back a teensy bit and just sucked. And it was amazing and I couldn't watch anymore and had to close my eyes, especially when he started moving his mouth over me and swirling his tongue and I really must know how he learned all this because if I didn't know better I'd wonder if he'd snuck off a letter to you when I was wasn't looking because it felt exactly how you described it, god.

Obviously I couldn't last much longer, and I came hard into his mouth and he managed to swallow some of it before he had to pull away, but I was a bit beyond caring then. When I came back to myself, it was to the familiar sounds of S. getting himself off. I made a half-hearted attempt to take over for him, but he wouldn't let me and came himself a few strokes later. We were sticky and sweaty and completely debauched and I pulled him into my arms and pressed kisses all over his face. He nuzzled his nose into my neck and mumbled promises that I could have a go next because it was brilliant and I'd love it. We might have said more things to each other, but we were half-asleep by then and I don't remember anything really, just feelings of being happy and sated and warm. and completely in love

WHEW. There you are, my friend, the longest letter I've ever written and certainly the naughtiest bit of writing I've ever done. I'm completely flushed with embarrassment and arousal god I'm hard again just remembering last night and hoping that if I actually get up the nerve to send this to you that it won't fall into the wrong hands or something else that will make me completely regret this. I also wish I had one of those copy quills so that I could set it to write this out again for my own gratification.

This shall never be spoken of again, all right? Not even in winks and nudges and Meaningful Glances. If you ever do meet S., there will be no congratulating him on a (blow-)job well done. This never was spoken of, and you've no idea what a randy little tosser I can be. All right? Right.

So, how've you been lately? How are your mum and dad? How's Raf? Splendid, splendid. Lovely weather we've been having and all that rubbish. Hope to hear from you soon, give my love to the family.

Blushingly yours,

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I am, officially, the world's greatest prat, and possibly a girl as well.

If, for any reason, you haven't read my last letter, DON'T. It will only make you think I'm daft, which I am, so there's no need, as you already know.

But of course you've read it, haven't you? Well, don't worry — things are fine. Sirius didn't sleep with anyone, boy or girl, except me, and we're getting off on better than ever.

Really this is a good thing, in the end. I got to realise just how much I care for him, and got reassured that while he could have almost anyone in the school, he wants me. ME.

And, shit. When he wants something, and gets it? He treasures it. I know I'm more comfortable with the emotional side of things in this, and saying That Word is something I try not to do until I'm sure he's ready to hear it...but I know he feels it, too. Just in the way he looks at me, talks to me, touches me...

There is still every chance that this won't work out for some reason, and I know that. But for someone who twenty-four hours ago thought he'd been cheated on, I think our relationship there's something here that... oh fuck, there I go all girly again. But I love him, I think he loves me, and right now neither of us can stand even the idea of being apart for even a day.

LOVE IS AMAZING!

Right. It's Sunday, and I just spent several days in hospital, and I wasted an entire day yesterday of potential make-up time...er, "making-up". I've got an arseload of Runes to translate, so I shall bid you goodbye for now, and wish you and Raphael well.

Ci vediamo,

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